Issues
by Anti-Social-Turtle
Summary: A childs view on his broken family...kinda.


Disclaimer: I do not own, or have ever owned, Third Watch.  
  
A/N: Joey is 10 or 11 in this fic.  
  
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My parents have issues.  
  
I'd thought I'd finally learned to live with my mom, and see my dad every weekend; those weekends were always fun. But I really did miss him, I miss the stories he used to tell me about work, and I missed my mom joining in, and the way he made her laugh. My mom doesn't laugh like that anymore.  
  
It was Wednesday, they were always boring, haven't seen my dad for three days and don't get to for another two. I was sitting at my desk, trying to do my homework. Trying being the key word there. I never liked science, my dad always needed to help me. Why should I care why plants are green?  
  
It probably wasn't helping that my radio was cranked as high as my mom let me, to my favorite CD no less. But I didn't expect that "Story Of The Year" would make me miss a knock at the door. But it did.  
  
The song ended and I lowered the volume. I could hear his voice, but it didn't sound ...normal. My mom was yelling at him, but there wasn't anything strange about that. I opened my door a little more and stepped out into the hallway.  
  
He was hanging on the frame of the front door while my mom held the door open for him. His hair was messed up, and his face was still dirty like it gets when he's been in a fire, and comes home without taking a shower.  
  
"Kimmy, I didn't mean to do it," he whispered to her. I looked back and forth between my parents, before I finally saw my moms face change. She looked like my teacher did last week when the pet lizard got out of the cage. Kinda scared, kinda nervous, and kinda sad.  
  
She tugged on his arm and got him to come into the apartment more. But she didn't say anything.  
  
"There must've been three more guys in there with him, they all got out," My dad was definitely upset about something. My mom held his face in one of her hands, the way she does when I'm sick, or if she knows I'm lying. She wiped a finger under his eye, and walked into the kitchen.  
  
She held a washcloth under the faucet and walked back over to my dad. I'd seen my mom cry before, a lot. When uncle Bobby died, and Alex, when daddy had been hurt, sometimes she'd even cry when she couldn't find something, just get frustrated.  
  
But this was a different kind of crying. This was the kind that I saw people do in the movies. When you see them get sad, and you know they're gunna start balling any second. First their eyes get all shiny then the tears start to roll down their cheeks. This was definitely that kinda of crying.  
  
She was back in the kitchen again, this time she was making coffee. But I looked at the clock and it was ten o'clock. Who drinks coffee at ten o'clock?  
  
"Jimmy, there wasn't anything you could do," she said calmly. My parents always found a way to balance each other out. When my mom was upset, my dad was calm. When my dad was upset, my mom was calm. When they were both upset, it was chaos.  
  
My mom finished making the coffee and brought it back to my dad. No one had noticed me yet and I slowly walked closer to hear them whispering.  
  
"Yeah, yeah there was Kim, there's always something someone could do," he said. I don't know why he was whispering; maybe he had seen me. I took a few steps back and got closer to the floor behind the view from the couch.  
  
My dad stood up and started to pace, he swayed, and sometimes tripped over his own feet. This wasn't my dad. This was my –drunk- dad. The coffee, the late night visit, now this, there wasn't any other explanation.  
  
"Jimmy," my mom stood and put her hand on my dads shoulder, "Not always."  
  
My dad shook his head. This was the weirdest I'd seen them act together in a long time. My mom wasn't mad at him or making him leave, and my dad wasn't trying to hit on my mom. They both sat down on the couch and I couldn't see them anymore, so I stood up.  
  
"He was supposed to get married Kim, I told his fiancée," he gulped, "she couldn't even move, but she was shaking so bad Kimmy." By this time my dad had started to cry himself. I'd never really seen my dad cry until then. Sure, he'd been upset, angry, sad, pissed, but he'd never cried in front of me; but then again, he didn't know I was there.  
  
My mom put her arm around his neck and my dad fell into her, I guess my dad and alcohol wasn't a good mix 'cause it didn't look like he was coming down from it any time soon.  
  
My mom started to move back and forth as my dad cried on her shoulder, "I know, I know," she kept saying, over and over, wishing my dad would stop. You could tell they hated to see each other so upset, they only knew from love and fun. But then again, I knew that a long time ago, I think everyone even knew it before they did.  
  
*~*  
  
She stayed on the couch that night; with him. She didn't even make him go home the next day. But my mom had seen me, standing in the hallway watching them. She'd shaken her head and I left. I went back to my bedroom and fell asleep. I never ask my dad to help me finish my science homework.  
  
Nobody said anything about what happened that night, to me, or anyone else in front of me. Nothing was even talked about until Monday. I hadn't spent that weekend with my dad, but I'd spent it with both parents for a change. But it was quiet. My dad didn't have any fun stories for me, or at least he wasn't in the mood to tell me. We didn't play videogames like we usually did, or play baseball.  
  
The mystery started to fit together on Monday though. I woke up earlier then usual for school, and I walked out to get cereal, like every other day. But I passed my moms bedroom and the door was kinda open. My mom was in front of the mirror with my dad, helping him fix his tie.  
  
"I always want to smile when I see you all dressed up like this, but then I remember why you are," she said. It sounded like she was going to cry again, or had before. My dad took his hat from the bed and turned around. He was in his dress suit, with all the metal medallions and pins; it meant someone died. It meant I knew why my dad had been so upset the past week.  
  
And it meant that things weren't gunna get better so fast.  
  
My dad kissed me goodbye and moved to the door, with my mom following him close behind. She opened the door for him, and they kissed. Usually I'd be grossed out, or run into another room, or say something rude. But I couldn't figure out what to say. My dad moved and my parents rarely spoke on word to each other any more; and here they were...kissing.  
  
My parents have issues. 


End file.
